Control
by GeneHarlow
Summary: Lydia finds Derek in her room, in the middle of the night, acting strangely. Suddenly her safety depends on this man she barely knows fighting to keep his control, when his wolf threatens to take over. (Warning - Flashes of a very dark Derek in this. Don't want to give the story away, but don't read if you're easily upset.)
1. Losing Control

"Derek!" gasped Lydia. He was perched on the chair in the corner of her room, the only light in the room a sliver of moonlight peeking in from between the curtains. His head was in his hands, and he didn't react to her entering the room at all.

"You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here... in my room?" Her eyes darted suspiciously around the room, seeking to make shapes out of the darkness. Her history with Peter had left her rattled, and she now saw monsters in the every shadow. Satisfied that they were alone, she turned her attention back to the man sitting in her french antique armchair. He still hadn't moved. She strode over to him and stopped right in front of him, her hands on her hips, her little foot tapping impatiently.

"Well?" Slowly, very slowly, he raised his head to look into her eyes. She defiantly stared back, trying to pretend she wasn't shocked by the broken look on his face. He looked confused, and, dare she say it, he looked almost scared. A sense of uneasiness crept in as the silence between them stretched on. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, as she suddenly became aware she was only wearing one of Jackson's old lacrosse jersey's that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. To his credit, he didn't even glance at her body, his eyes boring straight into hers. His brow was furrowed and she realised suddenly that he looked like he didn't recognise her.

She shifted awkwardly again and the much-too-big neck of the jersey slipped down, revealing her shoulder. He glanced at the stretch of pale skin that looked almost translucent in the moonlight and his gaze followed her body down, hungrily drinking her all in. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she decided to take back control of the situation. She huffed and began to turn away from him.

"Well, this has been fun an' all, but if you don't mind, I wanna go to bed so you can let yourself ou-"

She was cut off as his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist painfully. Her eyes widened as her green eyes suddenly met with glowing red ones. The uncertain look from earlier, replaced with a smoldering gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.

"D.. Derek?" She hated herself for stuttering, but she was starting to feel a little uneasy. Derek still hadn't said a word since she'd walked in. She moved to pull away from his grasp, but his grip only tightened on her fragile wrist. She gasped a little and her eyes flitted down to where their hands were joined. His eyes followed hers down and he released her suddenly. His eyes once again found hers, this time hazel and scared once more. He glanced around the room, his breathing fast and uneven.

"Lydia?" He choked out. He looked like he didn't know where he was. He stood up shakily.

"Yes. Lydia." She sounded out, as if she were speaking to a child. She reached out to touch his arm, trying to ignore the red marks that were already forming on her sore wrist. The moment her hand made contact with the cool material of his leather jacket, it was like he was transformed back into the predator she'd seen a glimpse of before. She jumped as his hands shot out to grip the the tops of her arms. His eyes roamed up and down her body, hungrily. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly. She wanted to say something, break the tension, but her mind was blank. All she could focus on was the way he was looking at her and the heat coming from his body that was now dangerously close to hers.

Before she could make sense of what was happening, his mouth was suddenly crushed against hers. She opened her mouth, shocked, and he took the opportunity to swipe his tongue across her lips. The kiss was hard and fast and messy, and with the punishing grip on her arms keeping her in place, she had no choice but to kiss him back and try and keep up with his pace. A low growl from the back of his throat brought her back to her senses. She wrenched herself away from him.

"What... what are you doing?" She stammered. He didn't answer, just smiled and took a step towards her. She stepped backwards before he could fully close the space between them. He took another step, and she did the same. She felt like she was the prey, as he stalked towards her.

"Stop," She murmured, half-heartedly, immediately knowing she didn't really mean it.

He didn't. Her knees were suddenly yanked out from under her and she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck to keep from falling. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of her thighs as he held her against him. Their new position felt incredibly intimate, as their bodies were sandwiched together, their faces so close she could feel his breath stir the red curls around her face. This was madness. She could count on one hand the amount of times the two of them had talked, and she was pretty sure they'd only been alone together once before, and she'd kidnapped him and resurrected a psychopath, so she was pretty sure that didn't count. And now here she was, legs wrapped around his waist, breasts heaving against his hard chest, her hands desperately fisted in the collar of his leather jacket.

He lowered his face to the crook of her neck and, with a sudden tenderness, nuzzled there, before beginning to kiss his way up the column of her throat. She threw her head back as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot just under her ear. A small moan escaped her and before she knew it, his mouth was on hers again. The tenderness was gone again, as he kissed her hard and fast, before throwing her roughly on to the bed. Before she had time to voice her indignation of his rough treatment of her, his body was covering hers and his mouth found hers again. She felt him shrug out of his jacket, and automatically reached up to help him pull his grey t-shirt over his head. Her fingertips trailed tentatively down his sides, before panning up the muscular plane of his back, while his hands somehow managed to be everywhere at once. Before she could register what was happening, his hands had found the neckline of her lacrosse jersey and pulled it apart, ripping the v-neck so it now stopped just above her navel.

"Hey!" She tried to scold him, but her words were swallowed by his mouth's bruising kisses. He pulled the material aside and his hand found her breast, kneading hard, low growls forming in his throat as he ground himself against her. She tried to cup his face with her hands, but his free hand grabbed them and pinned them over her head, making her arch her back and push her breast even further into his hand. His hand released hers and suddenly both his hands were suddenly under her hockey jersey, moving to pull down her panties.

"Wait." She panted. His eyes flashed red and his face contorted into a dark grin.

"No." He said, simply, as he yanked her panties off in one smooth movement. He rocked back on his heels, and stared at her, hard. She tugged at the hem of her now ruined jersey, squirming self-consciously under his scrutiny. His hands moved to undo his belt buckle and within seconds, he had shrugged out of his jeans and underwear. Her eyes widened. He was big. Much bigger than Jackson. She tried to remember the last time she'd had sex. Her and Jackson had broken up months ago, but ever before that, he'd barely touched her towards the end of their relationship, too busy with Danny and lacrosse and werewolf drama. So much had happened recently, sex had been the last thing on her mind. Before she could count up how long it had been, his body was against hers again, pressing her into the mattress as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Wait... slow down." She whispered, trying to wriggle away from him.

Without warning he slammed into her with a grunt and she cried out, long red nails digging hard into his shoulders. He was too big and it had been too long. She bit her lip to distract herself from the sharp ache between her legs. He didn't pause for her to adjust to him at all before pulling out and slamming into her again, wrenching another soft sob from her. She squeezed her eyelids shut, hoping to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. He started up a punishing rhythm, her room filling with growls and grunts that covered up the tiny squeaks and sobs that she couldn't stop from coming out of her mouth. He pushed his face against her neck again, his teeth scraping over her soft skin, never hard enough to draw blood, but just hard enough to be painful. His hand reached down to her hip and dug his fingertips into the soft flesh he found there, all the while continuing to thrust into her.

"You're hurting me." She whimpered. It had been barely more than a whisper and she was surprised he'd heard her, but he stilled instantly. The only sound in the room was the sound of their ragged breathing mingling together.

Slowly, he pushed himself up on his hands and looked her straight in the eye. His red eyes were once again gone and he looked down at her tear stained face with a tortured expression. He immediately clambered off her, pulling out of her too quickly, eliciting another cry from her. She scrambled up to the head of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her as she went, watching as he crumbled in on himself at the other end of her bed. He'd moved as far away from her as he could, and was sitting slumped over with his head in his hands.

"Derek?" He raised his head to look at her, and for one horrible second, she thought he might be about to cry. His expression was pained as he took in her red-rimmed eyes, her messy curls and the way she was hugging her knees to her chest underneath the huge purple blanket. He turned away from her, grabbing for his jeans from where they lay discarded on the floor. When he looked back, his usual mask was back in place, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry, Lydia." He shook his jeans out, clearly planning on leaving. "I'm... sorry."

Rage filled the tiny redhead. How dare he even think of leaving without some kind of explanation. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she lunged forward and ripped his jeans out of his hands, throwing them back on the floor. Her sudden childish move stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare think of leaving. What the hell is going on? What just happened?"

"It.. That shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry. I should just go." He shook his head sadly.

"You're not going anywhere till you tell me what's going on!"

"I.. It's the full moon." The silence stretched between them as she stared at him incredulously.

"So.. That's it? "It's the full moon"? That's all I'm getting? Oh well, that explains everything then!" She tossed her tangled curls out of her face and fixed him with a hard stare that had wilted stronger men than him. He sighed deeply.

"It's the first one since I became the alpha. I... I can usually control myself. I can anchor myself. But this time was different. I could feel myself slipping. Peter said that becoming the alpha means you have to learn control all over again." He glanced up at her, looking almost embarrassed. "He told me to go somewhere I felt calm and focus on that." She was confused.

"So... you came here?" He nodded once. "But... You don't even know me."

"I know. I..." He suddenly looked very awkward. "After Peter-" She stiffened at the mention of his name. "After you were attacked, we all believed you would turn. I thought you would want someone to be there, if it happened, so after you were released from the hospital, I would come by and keep an eye on you."

"Well, that's fairly stalker-ish." She was joking, but she instantly regretted her words. He ran his hand through his hair, looking panicked.

"I know how this sounds. But, I'd just sit outside your window for a few hours. I never came in, I swear."

"Till tonight?" It wasn't really a question.

"Till tonight." He confirmed. "After a few days, it became clear you weren't going to turn so I stopped coming by. But, as soon as Peter told me to go somewhere I felt calm, this was the first place I thought of. I realised I... liked watching you. You were so peaceful when you were asleep."

"Oh. Right. Well, that sounds much less stalker-ey(!)" she said, but her voice was soft and a small smile played on her lips.

"I swear, Lydia. I never meant to come in. I didn't mean to hurt you." He couldn't look at her now. His eyes were focused on a spot on the floor and his voice had taken on a hard edge. She knew he was angry at himself.

"I know." She said, shuffling towards him a little bit. "I'm OK." He snorted, mirthlessly and got up again, pulling his jeans on.

"No you're not." he snapped, glancing pointedly at the arm that was holding the blanket against her body. She cast her eyes down, noticing the bruises already forming on her wrist, where he'd grabbed her.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." She pleaded as he stood up. He carried on pulling his clothes back on, without looking at her. She sniffled, suddenly terrified of him leaving her alone.

"Please don't go." she murmured, hating how weak she sounded. He paused briefly, just in front of her window, and turned his head slightly. She heard him sigh loudly and he gave a little shake of his head.

"I'm sorry, Lydia." And with that, he was gone, leaping silently out of her window and into the cold night. She heard a few rustling footsteps, and then silence. She considered going to the window, but she knew he would already be gone. She sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She almost wished her mom was home, just so she didn't have to be alone in the house anymore. She suddenly felt very tired and rolled into a ball, finally letting the sobs she'd been holding in escape.

Derek stood staring up at her window, unsure of what to do. He had hurt her. She should have feared him, but she had asked him to stay. Just as he was trying to decide whether or not to go back, he heard a small noise that tore his heart apart. She was crying. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and realised he could still smell her on him. That peculiar smell of cherries and coconut and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Her scent filled his nostrils and her cries filled his ears and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. He took off, running faster than he'd ever run before, desperate to outrun the muffled whimpers of the girl he feared he was becoming obsessed with.

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**Author's Note: So, there it is. My very first foray into fan fiction. I know it's a bit dark, considering I preeeeeetty much made Derek a rapist, but I have a rough idea of where this is going, and it wont all be as dark. There's probably only going to be 1 or 2 more chapters to this, and I'll try to update as soon as I can, but I'd REALLY, REALLY appreciate any feedback in the meantime. It's SO nerve wracking submitting a story for the first time so any reviews will be much appreciated, even if you hated it (Only kidding. If you hated it, don't tell me cause I'll only cry and we'll all get embarrassed.)**

**xxx**


	2. Taking Control

**Oh my goodness! Can I just say thank you sooooo much for all your reviews and follows and stuff? I know it might not seem like much to some people, but I was expecting one or two reviews at most, and then all these emails came through saying people were following and favouriting and stuff and I was blown away! Thanks guys! You totally inspired me to crack on and finish this next chapter. I've even started the one after aswell. Hope you like it!**

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Lydia rolled over, blinking her eyes in the early morning light that was streaming in. She frowned briefly at the open window, before remembering the events of the night before. She stared at the window, the curtain moving gently in the breeze, as if Derek was suddenly going to appear the way he had last night. She stretched, wincing a little at the now only slight ache between her legs, and jumped out of bed to inspect herself in her full length mirror. She pretended she couldn't see the the ugly bruise on her wrist and just focused on her face. Her eyes were still a little tear-stained, dark mascara tracks marring her otherwise perfect face and she raised her finger to her lips, noting they seemed even more swollen than usual. She could skip the lip-plumping gloss today, she thought to herself.

Leaning a little closer, she noticed little red scratches where Derek had dragged his teeth over the soft skin of her throat. She flushed at the memory of him nuzzling and nipping at her collarbone. Her fingers traced the tiny marks with her fingertips, trying to decide how she felt about them. They didn't hurt. She could barely feel them. But he had still marked her. She should still be annoyed about them, right? Instead, her body tingled as she remembered the feel of his mouth moving against her. She closed her eyes and fought to understand her own feelings. Should she feel angry towards him? He hadn't meant to harm her, but she couldn't deny that he had. She even had the scratches to prove it. And then he'd left her, crying and all alone. But where should they go from here? Should she just pretend nothing had happened?

Sighing at how complicated her life was these days, she set about getting ready for school, trying to turn the mess in the mirror into the perfectly poised bombshell that everyone expected her to be. An hour later, she was ready, with expertly applied concealer covering up the dark circles and a lacy cream shirt dress buttoned up high, covering up the little scratches. She preened in the mirror, giving her hair a last little fluff and putting on the knowing smile that had become her game face before heading out of the door.

Her day dragged by slowly. She was quiet but that wasn't unusual these days. No-one thought it strange that she stared into space through all her classes, or just picked at her salad at lunch. She chit-chatted briefly with Allison after school, but the conversation soon turned to Scott and she quickly excused herself, managing to suppress an eye-roll. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for her friend, but with her own love life suddenly so strange and complicated, the last thing she wanted to hear about was the doomed love affair of the most sickeningly sweet couple she knew.

Slipping into the tinted interior of her sleek black convertible, she rested her head against the steering wheel. She felt utterly alone. She had wanted to tell someone - Allison. Stiles. Maybe even call her mother up at whatever far-away conference she was attending this week, but what was she supposed to say? _"Hi mom. A guy broke into my room and we made out but he got a bit rough with me so he left and now I can't stop thinking about him. Oh, and he's a werewolf." _She'd surely just pretend she hadn't heard her and quietly talk to her doctor about upping her prescription. Maybe Allison would pretend to understand, but she knew she would just run and tell lover boy and then she'd be in even more of a mess. She had hoped the cool feel of the leather against her forehead would help clear her head, but her mind remained as clouded as it had been when she'd woken up that morning. She knew there was only one person she could really talk to about it.

Unconsciously slipping her fingers under the neckline of her dress, she gently brushed the faint bitemarks. They were already fading and for some reason, it made her slightly sad. She mentally shook herself. She was not this girl. She was not some simpering idiot who actually wanted to be wearing the bitemarks of a man she barely knew. With a renewed sense of determination, she turned the ignition. She knew exactly where she was going. This ended now.

She knew he'd heard the screech of her tires as she pulled up outside the crumbling Hale house. Looking up at the cracked, peeling facade, she briefly saw his silhouette in one of the only unbroken windows. She blinked and he was gone. She refused to be rattled. Steeling herself to enter the house that looked even more formidable in the grey gloom of the early evening, she marched up the steps, her heels clacking on the dusty porch. She paused briefly at the door. Should she knock? He didn't knock before breaking into her room, so why should she? She grasped the handle experimentally and pushed, feeling a small sense of triumph when it opened with ease. Heading straight up the staircase that had clearly once been rather grand, she pressed on further into the gloom of the house, heading straight to the room where she'd seen him in the window. Once again, not pausing the knock, she pushed open the door and stormed into the room, a determined blur of cream lace, red curls and cherry lip gloss.

He turned to face her. He'd clearly been expecting her. He looked her up and down, slowly.

"Lydia," he said, simply, as his only form of greeting, nodding slowly.

"Derek", she mimicked his cold tone, almost giggling at the intense formality of their greeting. Any giggle that was bubbling beneath the surface quickly disappeared when she had the sudden realisation that she had no idea what she wanted to say to him. Her determination to come here and confront him had overtaken the fact that she had no clue why she was actually there.

He was watching her expectantly, clearly waiting for her speak first. She shifted awkwardly, glancing around the room, as if it could offer a reason as to why she was there. His eyes flitted to her chest for the briefest second and she realised he must have picked up on her elevated heart rate. Taking a deep breath, she decided to break the silence that had stretched on for too long.

"Nice place." She had meant for the words to come out teasing and flirty, but instead they tumbled from her mouth too fast and sounded shrill to her own ears.

His eyes darted quizzically around the room, and she took in her surroundings and realised the stupidity of her words. She hadn't taken her eyes off him since she stormed in and now only just noticed that the room they were in was completely different to the rest of the house. The charred, black walls of the halls were replaced with bright white paint and the debris that littered the rest of the house didn't carry on in this room. Instead she was clearly in his bedroom, a neatly made bed in the centre of the room, an empty bedside table next to it. A group of dark haired children smiled down at her from a single framed picture on his wall. He followed her gaze to the picture and cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"This wing of the house escaped the worst of the fire. There was really only smoke damage. I just repainted the walls and moved my stuff up here." He was scuffing his feet and looked almost embarrassed.

"Oh," she added, uselessly. She'd never really thought about where he slept. She'd never really thought about him at all before last night. And now he was all she could think about.

A small sound broke her reverie. It sounded like he'd mumbled something under his breath.

"What?"

"I said, are you OK?" He murmured, not looking at her.

"Yes," she breathed softly.

He gave her a skeptical look.

"Really. I'm fine."

The awkward silence returned. She cursed herself for not planning this better.

"I'm sorry about last ni-" They both suddenly blurted out at the same time.

He shot her an incredulous look.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" he asked, amazed.

"Well, I.. I just... I guess I led you on or something?" She said, uncertainly.

In a heartbeat he was in front of her, his eyes boring into hers.

"Lydia. Do not think that! You didn't do anything wrong. I... I'm a monster. It's me who's sorry."

She laughed softly, causing him to furrow his brow at her.

"You're not a monster, Derek. Monsters don't have family pictures hanging on freshly painted walls."

He spun away from her abruptly, exasperated by her.

"Lydia. Think about it. I broke into your house, forced myself on you. I hurt you. I don't want your forgiveness, if that's why you're here."

"Oh Derek, don't be ridiculous." It was her turn to be exasperated now. "I'm not here to forgive you. What happened... It wasn't you. I know that. Your wolf took control and that sucks, but it's done now."

She was sick of talking to his back so she circled him, getting in his face. "And as for "forcing yourself on me"?" She rolled her eyes at him. "How dramatic! I was a fairly willing victim for the most part."

He frowned at her.

"I.. I didn't remember."

She blinked up at him with questioning eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"You don't remember what you do... When the wolf takes over, I mean. I remembered running to your house and then it's just flashes. Pieces of memories. The next thing I remembered was sitting at the end of your bed and you were crying. I thought..."

The dawning realisation had just hit Lydia like a ton of bricks. He'd assumed the worst of himself. She stepped forward until she was right in front of him and he had no choice but to look at her.

"It wasn't like that," she whispered. "Not really."

"I remember grabbing you. I threw you down." His face contorted with sadness as the memories flashed behind his eyes.

"Well, yeah. But I wasn't exactly fighting you off," she said, casting her eyes down, shyly.

"You told me I was hurting you."

"Erm, well. It just all happened too fast. You were rushing and were a bit rough. That's all." The words tumbled out and her face burned. It was strangely mortifying having to explain all this.

He visibly relaxed, his face softening and some of the tension draining out of his stance.

"I thought... I thought I'd really hurt you."

"Oh please. I took Krav Maga classes last summer. If I really wanted to, I could take you out right here, right now." she said, cocking her head at him and shooting him a smug smirk.

He laughed. He actually laughed. She'd never seen him smile, let alone laugh. The effect was disarming. She smiled back at him, looking up at him from under her lashes. Stepping forward, she closed the last little gap between them and came to rest her hands flat on his chest. Without thinking, she leaned in slightly. He stayed perfectly still, probably not wanting to scare her. She rolled her eyes at the thought, and gently pressed her lips against his before she could talk herself out of it. He immediately tensed, pulling his face away from hers. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. She felt him move to turn away from her and reached up with both arms to pull his face back to hers again, this time kissing him in earnest. He didn't respond for a second before reluctantly kissing her back. The real Derek kissed completely different than the alpha wolf that had turned up in her room last night. He was soft and gentle and let her take complete control of the kiss. She moaned softly, as she sucked on his bottom lip, her hands fisting in his hair.

"Well, isn't this cosy?" A voice came from behind them, startling them both.

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**Ooooh! Cliffhanger! Who could it be? I'm pretty sure we all know who it is, but this chapter was running away with me and this seemed like as good a place as any to stop this one. Chapter 3's already half written so it should be up within the next couple of days. **

**Also, can I just add that I hope my attitude towards what happened between Derek and Lydia doesn't offend anyone. Obviously, in the real world, if a guy you barely know turns up in your room and gets rough with you, I don't think you should go to his house and kiss him. But this is a world where werewolves exist, which kinda changes things. Just thought I'd put that out there so no-one thinks I'm like, condoning rapey behaviour. That shit aint cool, bro. Thus endeth the after-school special.**

**Thanks again for the reviews. And don't worry Notgoingthere - I promise this will get finished. There's either one big chapter or 2 smaller chapters left, I think, both containing the smut we've all come to know and love. ;)**


	3. In Control

**Thus follows the longest chapter ever. It seriously got away from me. And, no, I'm sorry - this is not the smut that I had promised. It was initially going to be, but then adrikins319 pointed out that Lydia and Derek needed to talk things out a little more, (See, I really do listen to your reviews! I really do pay attention to where you all want this story to be going!) and I realised that that made alot more sense than them just pretending nothing had happened and going at it like rabbits. I promise you all that if you get through this chapter though, you will be rewarded with filth in the next chapter. (Thought - High school english teachers should adopt that strategy?)**

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_"Well, isn't this cosy?" A voice came from behind them, startling them both._

Peter was casually leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, observing the scene before him with a small smile.

They sprang apart, Derek subtly moving Lydia behind him as he did it.

"What do you want, Peter?" Derek growled, his eyes flashing dangerously at him.

"Nothing. I just smelled our lovely little guest and thought I'd come and say hi." He tipped his head to the side to get a look at Lydia who was cowering behind Derek. "Hi." He straightened up, addressing Derek again.

"You can smell her from outside. Doesn't she smell delicious? Like, cherries and promises?"

Derek's growl filled the room immediately and Lydia couldn't help but tremble. She knew without looking that his eyes would already be glowing red.

"Easy, Derek. Wouldn't want to lose control again now, would we?"

Lydia knew Peter was only teasing Derek to get a rise out of him. She'd spent enough time with him inside her head to know when he was playing with people, often for nothing more than his own amusement. He was probably just bored. He didn't really mean any harm, but Derek didn't know that. He hadn't seen what she'd seen.

She stepped out from behind Derek and made direct eye contact with Peter, her eyes filled with defiance. He turned his gaze on her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Well, well. There you are, little one. Done hiding?"

She said nothing, and just joined Derek in glaring at him. Peter laughed a little to himself and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Ok, ok, I know where I'm not wanted." He took a few quick steps across the room and leaned in close to Derek, never taking his eyes off Lydia.

"Isn't she a wonderful kisser though?" He said in a mock stage whisper, winking seductively at Lydia.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he went sailing across the room, crashing into the opposite wall, knocking the fresh plaster right off it. It had happened so fast, Lydia hadn't even seen Derek move. Peter got up slowly, dusting himself off, looking every part the older man who had been bested. It was enough to let Derek drop his guard, if only for a second, to glance at Lydia. Suddenly he was pinned against the wall behind him, Peter's forearm across his throat. Once again, Lydia hadn't even seen them move. She didn't think she'd every fully get used to this werewolf speed thing. Both men were panting hard, their features now unrecognisable as thick, dark fur sprouted down the sides of their faces. Derek struggled against Peter, gnashing his fangs at him, but the older man had the upper hand and he knew it. He leaned in close to him, and whispered something in his ear that Lydia couldn't make out. Derek let out a deafening roar, grabbing Peter by the throat and slamming him down onto the ground. Floorboards splintered around him, and the silly, frivolous side of Lydia couldn't help but think what a shame it was that they were destroying Derek's nicely decorated new room. Derek's hand was still around Peter's throat as the older man laughed, a dribble of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

"Tut, tut, nephew. Losing control again?"

Derek released him and momentarily, looked like he was going to back down. A split second later though, his fist came down on the solid floor board where Peter's head had be resting only a second before. Peter managed to roll out of the path of his punch just before it connected with his face, and instead, Derek's fist went straight through the floor board with a sickening crunch. Lydia had to look away from the sight of Derek's bleeding, mangled knuckles, meaning she didn't see exactly what happened next, but she knew more punches had been exchanged, because when she opened her eyes, both men were sporting bloody noses and black eyes.

"Stop." She muttered. They ignored her, continuing to swing for each other. She wasn't used to being ignored. "STOP!" She repeated, shrilly, stopping both men mid-grapple. "Stop this right now!" The men stared at her, their faces human again, shocked by her sudden outburst.

"Derek," she snapped. "Come with me. We're leaving." She held out her hand to him, and raised her eyebrows expectantly at him.

He paused briefly, eyeing Peter suspiciously for a moment. To her surprise, he reached out his uninjured hand and accepted hers wordlessly, like a scolded child, and they turned to leave.

"That's right, nephew. Listen to little red!" Peter called after them, and Lydia's head snapped back, flashing him one of her patented death glares before flipping her hair and walking out of the room, Derek in tow.

Lydia felt triumphant, a feeling she hadn't felt in some time. Someone had actually listened to her. That almost never happened! She was so busy beaming to herself that it took her a few seconds to notice that Derek's hand was still covering her own as they walked wordlessly through the house. They were halfway down the stairs before her hand twitched awkwardly against Derek's. He loosened his grip for a second and she assumed he was letting go, but he only repositioned his hand against hers, intertwining their fingers and giving them a reassuring little squeeze. Jackson would never hold her hand. He used to say it was for "children and lesbians" and pull her in for a kiss instead. She never said anything, but she'd really missed holding hands. There was something strangely intimate about the act and she glanced sideways at Derek, shooting him a shy smile that he returned, albeit through a slightly mangled face.

The car journey to Lydia's house was a silent one. Derek didn't ask where they were going. He just knew she'd take him there. She pulled into the garage and moved to get out of the car, before she noticed he wasn't moving.

"Derek? You coming?"

"Your mom?"

"She's out of town. A conference in Phoenix.. or Baltimore maybe? Either way somewhere far away."

He relaxed a little. She flashed him a brilliant smile and went round to open his door. "Relax. Come on."

Once they were in her living room, Lydia rushed off somewhere and Derek stood awkwardly in the dark, trying not to get plaster dust on the rug. She strode back in carrying a first aid kit, switching on the light as she passed it.

"Sit, sit, sit," she hissed, fussing around him.

He obediently sat down on the plush navy sofa, but held his hands up as she tried to push at his jacket sleeves.

"Lydia. There's no need. You don't have to..." She ignored him, starting to pull band-aids and cotton balls out of the box. He gently trapped her hands within his own, stilling them. She looked up at him. "Stop. It's ok. Look, I'm already healing." He held up his hand that had been a mangled, bloody mess just a few minutes ago. It was still bloody, but considerably less mangled than it had been. She laughed shakily.

"I will never get used to that." She realised her hands were shaking and she smiled up at him nervously.

"At least let me clean it up."

"There's no need," he said gently.

His voice was so gentle and so far removed from the harsh roars that she'd just heard that she suddenly felt very overwhelmed. The events of the day all seemed to catch up with her at once, and she felt like she might cry. She willed herself not to let the tears fall, and decided she needed to focus on something. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Please let me clean you up."

He nodded silently, and, with still-shaking hands, she set about cleaning up his hands and face with cotton balls soaked in antiseptic. She worked in silence, focusing completely on the task at hand, allowing him to study her face close up. A little wrinkle appeared in the centre of her brows as she concentrated on cleaning each little speck of dirt and blood off him. Every now and again, she would encounter a bit of dried blood that was tougher than the rest and she would let out a little huff, her whole face crumpling with annoyance for a moment. It was adorable, and Derek suppressed a little smile, before realising that he was not the sort of guy who normally thought things were adorable.

Lydia glanced up at him, without stopping her work and caught his face all screwed up in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing."

His face smoothed out into a grin, while she just chuckled and turned her attention back to her ministrations.

"What did Peter whisper to you?" she asked, without looking up.

"Nothing," he said, too quickly.

"Must have been something... To make you fly off the handle like that."

Derek's jaw tightened and he swallowed.

"It was something about you." He paused as she stopping dabbing at his hand for a second, "And no, I'm not going to tell you what he said."

She rolled her eyes. Normally, she wouldn't let something like this go, but she could tell he meant it.

"Fine. Suit yourself. Well, ta-da! You're done. All clean!" She finished with a flourish, scooping the used cotton balls up and flouncing out of the room.

He inspected his hands. They were indeed very clean. They were also pretty much completely healed already, but he could tell she felt better for letting her help him, so he wasn't going to point that out to her. He was inspecting his also very clean face in the mirror over the ornate fireplace when she returned, handing him a clinking crystal tumbler full of way too much amber liquid.

He took it and sniffed it suspiciously.

"It's scotch. Not arsenic," she deadpanned.

"I know it's scotch, Lydia. I just didn't know we were having a party. Surely this much scotch can't be for one person."

"Did you just make a joke?! The big bad wolf makes jokes now! Wait a minute while I add GSOH to your personal ad."

He rolled his eyes at her while she mimed writing something down and giggled at her own joke. She wiped her eyes and composed herself, raising her glass to him.

"It's been a long day, ok? I think we deserve this. What shall we drink to?"

He shrugged at her.

"Ok. Erm.. How about.. To new beginnings? Wait, no. That's too cheesy for words. Scratch that." She tapped her finger against her lip, clearly deep in thought.

"How about... To beating up Peter?" he interjected.

"Perfect!" she beamed. "To beating up Peter." They clinked glasses and both took a long drink, maintaining eye contact over the tops of their glasses.

She collapsed onto the sofa gracelessly and motioned for him to join her. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, both taking sips of their drinks. The silence stretched on and she slowly realised that she barely even knew this man. 24 hours ago, he'd been an almost stranger to her, and now they were sitting on her sofa, their knees bumping occasionally, drinking scotch together. The strangeness of the situation slowly dawned on her and she could tell he was coming to the same realisation, as he cleared his throat and shifted away from her slightly so that their knees were no longer touching. She turned her head to him and glanced away immediately with a nervous little laugh. It had suddenly become very awkward in this room. They needed to talk about everything that had happened but neither of them knew what to say. Shockingly, it was Derek who broke the silence first.

"So... you kissed me?" He made it sound like a question.

She turned to him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. She closed her mouth and tried to compose herself to say something back. In all the excitement she had almost forgotten about their kiss.

"Er.. Yeah, I did." She stared into the glass of scotch like it would somehow tell her what to say next.

"Why?" he asked, turning fully to look straight at her.

She snorted, her eyes still wide.

"Wow. Derek. For someone who never normally talks, you sure are good at asking the direct questions."

"I'm sorry," he said sadly, the mood between them shifting abruptly. "I just don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Any of it. I still don't think I fully understand what happened last night. And I definitely don't understand why you just kissed me."

Lydia opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

He turned his head towards her rather abruptly, his eyes wide with a sudden idea. "Maybe you could just explain what happened."

"Well..." Lydia started, unsure she wanted to rehash it.

"Please, Lydia. All I have are these flashes and I can't make sense of them. Maybe if you talked me through it, I might understand."

She took a deep breath and bit her lip, not sure where to start. She took a long sip, finishing her glass. Fuelled by the burn of the alcohol in her belly, she took a deep breath and began.

"Well, I came into my room last night and you were sitting in the chair by the window. I tried to talk to you, but you looked really dazed and weird, like you didn't quite recognise me. I... I went to walk away from you, and your eyes went red and you sort of grabbed me-"

"Where? Where did I grab you?" He interrupted, setting his now empty glass down on the table.

"Um.. here," she said, offering her wrist to him. Slowly, he pushed the sleeve of her pink leather jacket back to reveal the dark finger shaped bruises. He closed his eyes, his face dark, nodding for her to continue as he gently placed her wrist back in her own lap. "Soooo... you let me go, and then you looked like you didn't know where you were. You looked really freaked out, and that freaked me out, but then it's like the other you was back, and your eyes went red again and you grabbed my arms."

Before he could ask the question she knew was coming, she shrugged her jacket off and let him inspect the tops of her arms. There was nothing there. She could still feel a slight tenderness where his hands had gripped her too hard, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Once he seemed satisfied that he hadn't bruised her, she carried on. "Then you kissed me." She stumbled over her words.

"Did you pull away?"

The voice that came out of Lydia was the smallest voice he'd ever heard. "Yes." She didn't elaborate, and he didn't push her, just watched as she stared at her neatly painted fingernails in her lap.

"Not straight away though," she added, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She considered whether or not to mention the fact that she had backed away from him and told him to stop at that point. She decided against it. He would only take it the wrong way and beat himself up over it. Besides, she knew now as well as at the time that she hadn't really meant it. She'd just said it because she thought she ought to, not because she'd actually wanted him to stop.

"And then you picked me up," she announced abruptly.

"How?" She squirmed awkwardly. She was trying to avoid saying the words "straddle" or "thighs", for fear of this all taking on a phone-sex line kind of slant.

"Like, this?" She mimed picking someone's legs up and pulling them either side of her waist, "Like, face to face."

He nodded, solemnly, and Lydia wanted to laugh at how seriously he was taking this and how absurd the whole thing was.

"I remember... I remember picking you up." He said, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

Lydia breathed a silent sigh of relief. If he was remembering, perhaps they could stop this whole thing now, before it got any more awkward.

"Then what happened?" Lydia cringed inwardly. No such luck. Emboldened by the alcohol she knew was in her system, she decided to just power through the rest of it. If she just carried on, they could get it over with and he wouldn't have chance to keep interrupting her with his sad little puppy dog eyes.

"You kissed my neck and then you threw- put me on the bed and... and then you- we made out for a little bit." It was the first time she'd used the word "we", implicating her as being something a little more than an innocent victim. Her choice of words was deliberate but she only paused for a second to let it sink in before ploughing on. "And then your shirt was off and my nightie got kinda ripped-" He made a move to interrupt but she cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't worry. It was just Jackson's old lacrosse jersey. It wont be missed. If it was anything by Victoria's Secret, you'd have had the bill already." She rubbed her temples, trying to decide how to word the next bit. It seemed like sounding like a phone sex line was become unavoidable.

She sighed as if bored by the whole thing. "So, more making out, bit of groping, and then my underwear was gone, yadda yadda yadda..." She reeled them off like she was reading a shopping list. She was using the easy Lydia charm that had made her so popular at school, trying to pretend she wasn't mortified by the whole thing.

She could act as casual as she liked, but she couldn't hide the blush that was creeping up her neck. She felt her face heat up as his eyes bore into the side of her head. She looked away from him, willing herself to stop blushing. When she turned back, she was even redder than before and had decided she was done with this.

"That was when things kicked up a notch so we decided to stop and I think you should know the rest." She finished, matter of factly.

He wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"So that's when I... was too rough with you?"

She nodded. "A bit."

"And I hurt you."

She nodded again. "A bit."

He ran his hand through his hair, sighing deeply.

"I'm sorry."

It was her turn to sigh now, exasperated by his constant apologising. She snapped, turning on him.

"Stop apologising! Don't you get it by now? I'm not some victim. I'm not _always_ the victim!" He shrank back away from her and she realised she was shouting. Maybe that drink had gone to her head? She leaned back in her seat. When was the last time she ate? The three bites of salad at lunch surely didn't count. She was so focused on trying to work out when she'd last eaten properly that she didn't notice him shuffling across the sofa to her until he was inches away from her. His face was less tortured now, and a confident grin played on his face. The last time he'd looked at her like that, he'd thrown her down and ravished her and she frowned at him, suddenly suspicious.

"So, you wanted me then?" He asked, turning on a level of charm she didn't know he had. She narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"That depends. Am I talking to Derek? Or Derek's wolf?" If his wolf was in control again, shouldn't she feel afraid? Wouldn't she be in danger?

He breathed out a soft laugh, shaking his head at her. She breathed out a sigh of relief. Wolves don't laugh.

"We're not separate people, Lydia. We're one and the same. Me and my wolf want the same things. The wolf just goes about it differently." A little shot of exhilaration shot through her at his words.

He was flirting with her but she wasn't going to give in that easily. She turned her head away from him, chin held high, a haughty expression on her face.

"So... what? The man and the wolf both want sex? What a surprise. Am I supposed to be flattered that I was the nearest female?"

He blinked, the flirty smile gone, replaced with uncertainty.

"No.. I..." He stammered. Lydia smiled inwardly. She liked being in control, liked the effect she could have on people. She carried on looking away from him, a little pout forming, her face the very vision of unimpressed.

"I wanted you. I just wanted you." She froze. She hadn't expected that. She snapped her head back to him, searching his face for a moment and finding nothing but honesty there.

He looked back at her with hopeful eyes, hoping they'd say everything he couldn't quite verbalise. He'd never been good with words. The fact that she'd been able to coax anything out of him was a testament to her sheer force of will. When Lydia talked, you couldn't help but reply. She was looking at him through narrowed eyes, and he could tell she was thinking about what to do next.

She stood up abruptly and turned, offering him a perfectly manicured hand. He took it without thinking and she pulled him to his feet.

"Come," she commanded, starting to walk across the room. He trailed along obediently behind her. He would protest at being talked to like a dog, but he could tell Lydia meant no offence by it.

"Where?"

She paused and turned to him, briefly, shooting him an incredulous look.

"To bed," she said simply, as if it was the stupidest question in the world.

* * *

**To bed? Oh Lydia, you saucy little minx. Thanks again for reading a once-again sexless chapter. I know, I know. I hate it too. But we can't just have them jumping into bed willy nilly. They had some shit to talk through. **

**Also, DoubleDee068 wondered if it was Peter or Isaac who had caught them. I hadn't even considered Isaac but since I love him and his little puppy dog eyes, I might just have to weave him into the narrative. Thanks for the idea. :)**

**Once again, thank you again for your reviews. They're awesome! I kinda had the worst day ever today (I wont go into it. No-one will care. It just sucked) and it was genuinely cheering to log into my emails and see more reviews and follows and favourites and stuff in my inbox. I haven't replied to any individually yet cause I don't really know the etiquette on that yet, but I hope you all read these notes and know how much your kind words mean to me. Keep em coming, lovelies! xx**


	4. The End

So** here it is, the final proper chapter. There's going to be a little epilogue after this, but it'll just be a silly last little bit to round it off. Here is the much anticipated Dydia sex. Enjoy! ;)**

* * *

_"Come," she commanded, starting to walk across the room._

_"Where?"_

_She paused and turned to him, briefly, shooting him an incredulous look._

_"To bed," she said simply, as if it was the stupidest question in the world._

He followed her mutely as she led him up the stairs to her room, closing the door behind them and turning to face him.

"So... this is my room. I'd give you the tour, but I think you've been here bef-" She was cut off as his mouth suddenly covered hers. Though taken aback by his forwardness, she couldn't help but think how different this kiss was. It was somehow gentle and passionate at the time, his lips conveying the apology he so desperately wanted her to accept. She opened her mouth to him, hoping he'd understand that he was forgiven.

Their lips moved against each other easily, all the awkwardness of their first real kiss at his house forgotten. This time he wasn't the reluctant recipient of a kiss he thought he didn't deserve - They were equals and she felt no need to assert control of the kiss. That said, he didn't want to push his luck and waited for her hands to come up and grasp at the back of his neck before allowing himself to reach out and touch her. His hands settled softly on her hips, barely touching her really and Lydia sighed into the kiss. He knew if their eyes were open, she'd be rolling her eyes at him. Her hands flew down to cover his, pressing them more insistently against her hips, an unspoken request to stop treating her like she was made of glass.

She moaned softly as the kiss deepened and reached her hands back up to fist them in his hair, pulling his body against hers. Her hands ghosted over his shoulders, slowly sliding his leather jacket off his shoulders as they went. He mimicked the action, peeling the tight pink jacket off her arms and letting it fall to the floor. His hands skimmed down the lengths of her arms, remembering that he had grabbed her there too hard less than 24 hours ago. He broke the kiss suddenly and was leaning down, lowering his mouth to her shoulder. She frowned, confused for a second before she felt his lips press gently to the skin there. He continued down her arm, planting tiny soft kisses where he assumed his hands had grabbed at her. He moved across to her other arm, repeating the action there, this time kissing all the way down to her bruised wrist. Wordlessly he entwined his fingers in hers and lifted her wrist to his mouth, planting the softest kiss on the darkened skin he found there.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. He'd said sorry so many times to her in the last 24 hours, but this was all the apology she had really needed. Their fingers still clasped together, she guided his hand to the high neck of her shirt dress and he paused there, his eyes questioning. She gave him a tiny nod and his fingers moved to the top button, slipping it open slowly, a tiny V of flesh being exposed as he did so. The first of the bitemarks she'd be trying to cover up peeked out from the edge of the lacy material and he closed his eyes for a second, disgust with himself flashing over his face before leaning down to press a kiss there aswell. She closed her eyes and leaned back a little, reveling in the feel of his face nuzzling against her collarbone. Keeping his face pressed against her, his hands reached to slip another button open, his face sliding down to kiss the next tiny scratch he revealed. He carried on like this until he reached the last button, which opened to reveal a lacy cornflower blue bra and the last (and lowest) of the bitemarks. He was almost on his knees in front of her now and he paused, looking up at her uncertainly. Her eyes fluttered open and without thinking, she gave him the permission he sought by grasping his face and pushing it back against her chest. He nuzzled against her chest for a moment before kissing the last little red mark, knowing he would never mark her like this again.

He moved back up her body, standing again to his full height and moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her deeply once again. He desperately wanted to see more of her body, that little flash of cornflower blue lace igniting his passion for her, but he held back, determined to led her take the lead this time. As if she could read his mind, she immediately slipped the now totally undone dress off her shoulders, the soft fabric floating down her body to pool at her feet. Clearly deciding he now had an unfair advantage, her hands slid to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, only breaking their kiss for a moment before pulling him flush against her. His body was warm against hers - Almost too warm and she remembered reading somewhere that werewolves always ran a little hot. She hoped against hope that she wasn't pulling werewolf information from Twilight, and pushed the thought from her mind, pressing her flat stomach even harder against him.

She was on tip-toes trying to reach up to him and the logistics of their current situation suddenly dawned on her. She was 5'3" and, as far as he could tell, he was at least six foot. He was leaning down awkwardly to reach her mouth and she knew after what had happened, he would never try to pick her her up. She decided to take control of the situation and suddenly jumped up, bringing her knees around his waist. She held on tightly to his neck, just in case, but she never doubted he would catch her, and sure enough, his hands automatically went to the undersides of her thighs. If he was surprised by her sudden leap, he didn't let on, and only stopped kissing her for a second, before carrying on, his hands gently supporting her in place.

They were in the exact same position they had been in last night, but the mood was completely different. This time Lydia felt the familiar thrill of being in control and although she had found the predatory look in Derek's eyes somewhat thrilling, she preferred the new side of Derek she was seeing tonight. Derek had said that he and his wolf were one and the same, but Lydia couldn't help but disagree as he lowered her back gently onto the bed. She could scarcely believe he was the same person that had thrown her down roughly last night. He followed her down onto the fluffy blankets till he was close enough to be kissing her again, but still keeping all of his weight off her. Impatient, she opened her legs to wrap around him and pulled him down to her. She gasped sharply as she realised his denim-clad bulge was now pressed against her core. Arching her back, she ground her centre against him shamelessly, eliciting a soft groan from him. She rolled her hips again and they both moaned into each other's mouths.

Realising once again that he was waiting for her to make the next move, her tiny hand slid between them to undo the button on his jeans. Her fingers brushed against the bulge there, not completely by accident and she smirked as his groaned against her mouth. Within seconds he had managed to wriggle out of his jeans, kicking them off his ankles and off the bed. She moved to pull down his boxer shorts aswell, but one hand flew to cover hers, stopping her before she could succeed. She had no time to be confused by the move though, as his mouth slid back down to her neck, his tongue and lips working together to plant a path of wet licks and kisses down her body. Reaching the valley between her breasts, he nuzzled there, inhaling deeply as his fingers moved to cup her breast through her bra. He kneaded her soft flesh for only a moment before yanking down the soft lace to reveal her stiff nipple. His mouth latched on and he moved his tongue against her expertly, his other hands coming up to massage her other breast. She threw her head back and moaned, feeling him smile smugly against her for a moment. She ran her fingers through his hair gently as he moved his attention to the other side. Satisfied that he had lavished enough attention on her heaving bosom, he carried on moving down her body, peppering kisses across her ribs, and licking down the soft line of muscle that defined the centre of her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her naval, and she giggled, his head snapping up and flashing her a devilish grin.

"Ticklish," she panted, by way of explanation. She couldn't have managed anything other than one word, anyway.

He returned his attention to her taut stomach, reaching the top of her matching blue lace panties. Of course Lydia Martin wore matching underwear. He wouldn't have expected anything different. He paused there, his fingertips resting just under the sides of the waistband. A tiny memory flashed behind his eyes, like he was trying to remember a dream. He vaguely remembered her muttering for him to slow down and him ripping her underwear off. He tried to push the memory aside. It wasn't him. Her hand came up to caress the side of his face and she looked at him with understanding eyes, instantly knowing what he was remembering. Her thumb rubbed across his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning into her palm, knowing it was all the permission he needed. His thumbs hooked into her underwear, sliding it down her legs ever so slowly, giving her chance to stop him if she wanted to. She didn't. He tossed her panties aside and pushed himself up to admire her for a moment. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, a halo of dark golden red curls, her chest heaved and her eyelids were half closed as she panted with anticipation.

He lowered his face to the neatly trimmed thatch of almost blonde curls and flicked his tongue out to taste her. He hummed with appreciation, and hooked his arms under her knees, opening her up more fully to him.

"Peter was right. You do taste amazing," he murmured against her core. Lydia tutted and rolled her eyes, knowing she'd be angrier about Peter's crass comment when she could focus on anything other than the feel of his breath against her. Her body quivered as he flattened his tongue to her, licking straight upwards. He repeated the move over and over, tantalising slowly until finally she could take no more teasing and fisted her hands in his hair, pushing his face against her. He began a steady rhythm, alternating between thrusting his tongue in and out of her and flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub. One of his hands unhooked from the back of her knee and moved to meet his mouth, sliding one digit into her slick entrance. Her breathed quickened as his finger curled deliciously. She surprised him when her hand moved to cover his, shifting his hand a little until it found the right spot inside her. A second digit joined the first, and Derek relished in the way she threw her head back, moaning loudly. He'd never assumed Lydia would be quiet and she didn't disappoint, a cacophony of little pants and moans escaped her lips. His mouth moved back to kiss her mound and she managed to surprise him again by gripping his hair so hard it was almost painful and pushing his face down, her other hand tapping at her clit. "No, no.. Here. Here," she panted out, her words coming out as barely more than harsh breaths. He didn't know why he was surprised. He'd seen her wardrobe. She knew what she liked in every aspect of her life. Why would her sex life be any different? He obediently followed her commands, licking and sucking at her clit, enjoying the gasps he was eliciting from her.

Lydia felt slightly embarrassed at telling Derek exactly what she wanted. Her and Jackson had been each other's firsts and she hadn't know how to tell him what she had liked. By the time she had figured it out, they had been together too long for her to really be able to come out and say it. She had just shut up and let him carry on, trying to convince herself she enjoyed the clumsy, fumbling touches. Jackson had never gone on this long. He'd usually just lapped at her till he felt she was ready and then ploughed on. She was most certainly not Derek's first and she pushed Jackson out of her mind as she felt her orgasm building from his expert ministrations.

The idea of coming like this suddenly made her feel incredibly vulnerable and she grasped at Derek's face, half heartedly trying to pull him up her body. She gave up when he didn't budge. She knew she hadn't really tried very hard, but she couldn't help it. The thing he was doing with his tongue right now was very distracting and the thought of him stopping made him want to cry. Her breaths were coming out shallow now and her moans had almost turned into desperate sobs. She hoped against hope he knew they were a good sign. She felt like if he stopped, perhaps thinking her noises were a sign he was doing something wrong, she might die.

He increased his pace and she felt something coil inside her. Her toes curled hard, her foot coming down to rest on his shoulder, urging him on. She bucked her hips without thinking, and arched her back suddenly, coming with a cry. Her hands twisted in the blankets underneath her, reaching out to grip the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut, still panting hard while he continued to lap gently at her till she came down.

After what felt like an eternity, she found she could breathe properly again and prised her eyes open, gazing down at him. He was leaning on his forearms, still resting between her legs, a smug smile on his face. She smiled back at him, biting her lip, shyly.

"Yeah. Ok. You're officially forgiven." She threw her forearm across her eyes, giggling, suddenly embarrassed at the noises she'd just been making. Feeling him crawling back up her body, she pulled her arm away from her eyes, just as he kissed her again. She tasted herself on him as he pressed his lips chastely against hers. She was all too aware of the now huge bulge pressing against the front of his boxers, but as she went to grind up against him, he pulled away from her, climbing off her and moving to sit on the edge of her bed. Frowning, she pushed herself up and settled behind him, wrapping her arms round his hard chest.

"And where do you think you're going?" she whispered playfully, pressing her breasts against his bare back. He didn't reply, and she instinctively knew what he was trying to do. A tiny part of himself was still beating himself up and he had wanted to make it up to her. He seemed to be planning on denying himself any fun, intent on punishing himself for last night and Lydia wasn't going to let him. She captured his ear lobe between her teeth and nipped at it gently.

"I'm not done with you yet." she whispered seductively, her hands roaming over his chest. She reached round and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, until he finally turned his head and kissed her properly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. That was more like it.

He turned around in her arms and they shuffled backwards until they were both kneeling, facing each other. They kissed like that for a while, until a little nibble to his lower lip urged him to move and he pushed at her a little, expecting her to fall back onto the bed. To his surprise, she grasped his shoulders and pushed him back instead, twisting him a little so he fell straight back on to the bed, instantly covering him with her body. She brought her knees up to straddle him, pushing herself up as she carried on kissing him. One hand supporting her weight, the other hand slid down between their bodies and grasped him through the fabric of his boxers, her fingertips tracing his hard length. His breath hitched in his throat and she took a moment to enjoy the power she had over him. She broke their kiss and shimmied down his body, grasping his underwear and slowly inching it down, his member released and bobbing free in front of her. Her eyes widened as she took him in. He was certainly big, but it didn't hold she same sense of foreboding as it had under yesterday's circumstances. Instead, it filled her with anticipation and she bit her lip as he watched her study him. She dipped her head down and licked along his length, just for a second. All too quickly her mouth was gone and she prowled up his body, letting the full length of her body slowly brush against him. His hands moved to her hips and gently caressed the soft skin he found there as she settled with her thighs either side of him again sitting upright. He tried his best not to grip her too hard or thrust upwards as she lined herself up and slowly, so slowly, lowered herself onto him. She stilled and his eyes fluttered closed at the feel of her around him, but when he opened his eyes and stared up at her, he found himself troubled by what he saw. From his vantage point underneath her, he could take her all in - He saw the way her eyes were clamped shut, the way her brow was furrowed with discomfort, her tiny hands curled into tight fists resting against his abdomen.

"You ok?" He whispered, feeling guilty. She didn't open her eyes, but her brow smoothed out, and she nodded briefly, before starting to move, very slowly. He watched her face carefully and she'd barely rocked against him before her brow furrowed again. He grasped her hips, stopping her movement.

"Do you want to stop?" She sighed, nodding and his face visibly fell. He'd rushed her. She hadn't wanted to do this. It was only 24 hours ago that they'd been here before, and once again he was racked by guilt over hurting her. Of course she was still sore - she was 5'3" of delicate ivory skin and he was 6 foot of pure werewolf-fuelled muscle.

Her voice interrupted his dark thoughts about how much he hated himself all over again.

"I don't like it like this," she announced matter-of-factly, cocking her head at him. "Sit up over there." She commanded, pointing at the headboard.

She lifted herself off him and waited for him to move, giving him a questioning shrug when he lay there, unmoving.

"I thought you wanted to stop."

"Yes. I just said - I don't like it like that. Now, go sit over there." She was talking to him like he was stupid, clearly unaware of how much him misunderstanding her had affected him. He was going to have to stop thinking the worst all the time. Little Lydia Martin knew what she wanted and wasn't one to be rushed. He realised he was going to have to start giving her more credit, as he obediently shuffled over to the headboard, sitting up against it as instructed. He also realised he was going to be have to get used to being told what to do. He settled down in his new position, before turning his attention back to Lydia. She was on her hands and knees and was crawling towards him, her eyes dark. She let out a ridiculous little growl as she crawled along his legs.

"That was you. That was me being wolfy-you. Did you like it?" She giggled to herself.

"I loved it. You'd make a fine alpha." She had reached his lap, sitting back on his legs, and he took the opportunity to brush the hair out of her eyes.

"Alpha? But then I'd be your boss?" She said flirtily, already understanding wolf-politics enough to know the answer.

"You're already my boss," he said seriously, tucking her hair behind her ears and cupping her face tenderly. She lifted up on her knees and kissed him, sniggering softly against his mouth.

"I know," she replied, breathily, before sinking down on him again. Her eyes snapped shut again, but his time her face told a completely different story. He studied her for a moment, taking in the way her neck lolled back and her mouth hung partly open. She was beautiful. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip and she lifted herself up and slid down again. Her body started up a punishingly slow rhythm, bobbing up and down, her hands resting on the edge of the headboard for support. He went to thrust upwards, trying to match her pace, but her hand snapped back behind her, pushing his legs back down. She was clearly determined to stay in control and he was definitely happy to let her, making a promise to himself not to try and take control again. She increased the pace a little and frowned suddenly, almost looking annoyed.

Before he could ask her what was wrong, she stilled, and changed tack, the bobbing motion stopping and a small grinding motion taking it's place. Her little frown instantly smoothed out and she opened her eyes, resting her forehead against his as she continued to move against him. She bit her lip, her face contorted in concentration as the room once again filled with her pants and moans, this time joined by his soft grunting. One hand tangled in her hair, the other one slid down her smooth back to cup her ass, gently guiding her as her hips continued to snap back and forth, this new position grinding her clit against him. She maintained eye contact for as long as she could, until the feeling of being filled by him was too much and she lifted her head, exposing the soft skin of her throat to him. He kissed her there, the way he had kissed her earlier and lowered his head to her chest to swirl his tongue around her nipple. She cried out, digging her fingernails painfully into his shoulders. If he was human, he'd probably scar. He shuddered, imagining the scratches Jackson had probably joked about with his lacrosse buddies. He put the image out of his mind and turned his attention back to her. He was close, but he was determined to see her come again, this time able to look right into her eyes as she did. His hand crept round from her ass to the spot right above where their bodies were joined, his thumb finding her sweet spot. She faltered for a moment but then sped up her movements as his thumb started to circle her clit, struggling to keep up with the frantic movement of her hips. He felt his instinct to bite trying to take over, as it always did at this point. Kate hadn't minded. As long as he didn't turn her, she pretty much let him do what he want, which meant that there was rarely a time in their relationship that she hadn't been branded with a bite mark or a scratch, but Lydia was different, untainted, and his human side felt no desire to mark her in any way. He felt his eyes flash red for a second as his orgasm built and he buried his face in her hair so she wouldn't see, placating the wolf within by closing his teeth over her earlobe.

The new sensation was enough to end it for her and she threw her head back with a quivering scream that made him swell with pride. He felt her nails tear into his skin once again, and watching her face contort with ecstasy, he soon followed her over the edge, pulling her close to him and breathing a shaking groan against her chest.

Some time later, they were lying on their sides, half asleep, Lydia with her front pressed against his back. She was tracing lazy patterns up and down his back with her fingertips.

"Derek?"

"Mmm?" He murmured back sleepily.

"You're not healing." She lightly ran her fingers along the deep red scratch marks that still looked just as red and angry as if she'd just done it.

"Mm? Oh. I know. I wont heal for a day or two."

He rolled over clumsily, turning to face her.

"Wounds inflicted during mating don't heal as fast as others. It's like a territorial thing. You see scratches that aren't healing and you know not to go near them."

She gave a fake gasp of moral outrage.

"Good lord. You really are savages."

"Me? You're the one who scratched me. Who's the real savage, here?"

She snapped her teeth at him, looking so completely un-savage that he couldn't help but laugh at her.

"I was just reminding you who's boss." She said innocently, leaning close to his face.

"I wasn't like to forget," he replied, before closing the gap between them and pulling her in for a kiss.

* * *

**So that's** **_sort_**** of the end. I really hope you enjoyed it and that the Dydia sex didn't disappoint. I was really nervous about writing it and tried hard to keep them in character, while still progressing the relationship along. Can't believe I've managed to write this all so fast. I just got really inspired and wanted to get it all written down before I forgot any of it. I don't know what or when I'll be writing next, but if you liked this story, then why not add me to your alerts? When inspiration hits, you wont miss a thing. Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for a last little part of this story that just finishes it all off. That'll be uploaded in the next day or two.**

**xx**


	5. Epilogue

_One month later._

Isaac was humming softly, as he strolled through the house, flipping through the mail. Derek had finally helped him officially transfer his address to the Hale manor and he smiled as he saw the first piece of mail sent to him at this address. It was junk mail, of course, and they'd spelt his name wrong, but he finally felt like he had a home. Somewhere he belonged. He heard footsteps upstairs and automatically headed up the steps to the usable wing of the house. Derek had put a roof over his head - The least he could do was take the guy up his mail.

Isaac paused outside Derek's room as he heard muffled sounds, smiling as he recognised Lydia's voice. She'd become a regular fixture around the house, ever since one day a few weeks ago, when he'd pounced on her, nearly ripping her throat out when he'd found her creeping round the house alone. Turned out she was "just breaking in to do some plastering", holding up DIY supplies like he should have known that. He'd felt so bad about jumping on her that he'd stayed around to help her, plastering and painting the parts of the wall she couldn't reach and taking over fixing the floorboards when she'd proclaimed she was "bored of this now." Isaac had assumed Derek would fly off the handle when he found the young beta and the red-head he was sure he didn't like sitting on his bed, drinking tea and admiring their handy work, but Lydia immediately bounced over to him, smiling brightly.

"Surprise! I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?"

"You did all this?" He asked, staring around the room, that was now even better than it had been. She'd replastered the walls and repainted over the harsh white with a very, very pale blue colour. His bed now matched with what he assumed were probably 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and a simple striped blue rug had been set at a jaunty angle on the floor. She followed his gaze down to it and sighed, clearly not satisfied.

"I know, I know. You're right. I hate area rugs too. But," she crouched down, flipping the rug back revealing the now very uneven floorboards.

"_Someone's_ not a carpenter, apparently." She nodded her head in Isaac's direction. "Oh yeah. Isaac helped, by the way... A bit." She added, smoothing the rug back down.

Isaac flinched back as Derek strode quickly over to him, learning from years of seeing his father do the same thing. Derek's expression was unreadable as he looked down at the beta who was still sprawled on his bed. Suddenly, his hand gripped his shoulder, awkwardly patting him.

"Thanks."

Lydia cleared her throat loudly from behind him, and he turned his attention back to her. "And thank you, too." He said, pointedly, glancing at Isaac

before planting a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Isaac could only stare, dumbfounded. They didn't even know each other, did they? He had a newfound respect for his Alpha. He was more complicated than he had initially thought. Maybe this had been going on in secret for weeks? Months even? Lydia smirked at his confused expression, before flouncing out of the room.

"I'm making lunch, boys. And so help you God, Derek, if I get into this kitchen and find out you've bought white bread again," she called out after

her.

She paused at the bottom of the steps, just in time to hear:

"We can trust you, right?"

"Yeah... I wont say anything."

Since that day, Lydia had become a regular fixture around the house and Isaac had actually really enjoyed having her around. He could usually tell when she was there cause there'd be a pot of earl grey brewing and the whole house would fill with the scent of bergamot, which could still never quite mask her particular cherry scent. Derek was completely different with her around aswell. Isaac would sometimes gulp when she made a joke that seemed to go too far, holding his breath for the wolf-out he assumed was coming. Instead, Derek had taken to laughing. He actually laughed. Isaac could hardly believe it. He'd even started cracking his own jokes, revealing a sharp wit and deadpan delivery that he seemed to save for Lydia alone. They were like some strange little family unit, with Lydia the mother, cooking and cleaning and fussing over their clothes, Derek the father, reading the paper at breakfast and occasionally giving him a friendly pat on the back and Isaac the child, simply happy to have found a place where he fit in. That's why he thought nothing of it when he heard Lydia's voice ringing from Derek's room.

"Are you sure this is really necessary?"

"I just don't want to take any chances."

Isaac strode into the doorway, not looking up from the pile of mail.

"Hey Derek, I have your m-" He stopped dead, taking in the scene before him.

Derek was lying on his bed, wearing boxers and a wifebeater, hand and ankle cuffs securing his arms and legs to the corners of the bed, while Lydia was bent over, securing the last restraint, wearing nothing but one of Derek's shirts. His face flitted from his Alpha, housemate and primary caregiver lying spread-eagled, to the sight of Lydia's bare ass checks peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. She straightened abruptly, both of them turning to stare at Isaac, who's mouth was still hanging open. They all just stared at each other for a moment before Lydia fixed her usual, brilliant smile on her face and took a few steps towards him.

"Hey, Isaac," she said as if there were nothing strange about the scene he'd walked in on.

"Erm... hey?" His wide eyes couldn't decide what to focus on. Looking anywhere in the vicinity of Derek seemed like a no-no, but little Lydia, with her messed up hair and a shirt that barely covered her seemed like an equally dangerous choice. She stopped directly in front of him and leaned in close, meaning he couldn't help but sniff her, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Derek who growled very softly. He soon understood why. She smelt like coconut and bergamot and sex. It was intoxicating. Lydia continued to lean dangerously close to him, unaware of what their werewolf noses were picking up on, and began talking to him in a conspiratorial stage whisper.

"It's _exactly_ what it looks like. _Someone_ read 50 Shades of Grey last night and just wouldn't let it go till-"

"Lydia!" Derek snapped at her, cutting her off, making Isaac jump. Lydia, though, simply rolled her eyes.

"Ok, ok. It's the full moon tonight and as a new alpha, Derek finds it harder to control himself. He doesn't want to take any chances." She spun around, giving Derek a look to check he agreed. He nodded once, indicating he approved.

"Okay." Isaac sounded out slowly, glancing between them both as they looked at him expectantly. "Well here's your mail," he said, dropping it on the nearest surface. "And..." He puffed out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "I'm going to leave now."

He turned and walked as fast as he could down the hall.

"Wait!" Derek called after him, making him pause on the stairs. "Are you going out running tonight?"

"Yeah," he shouted back.

"Be home by dawn!" Lydia trilled. "We've got school tomorrow!"

"And be careful!" Derek added.

The last words Derek's werewolf hearing picked up on were "so messed up" and "scarred for life", before the door slammed and Isaac was running through the words, Derek laughing softly to himself.

Lydia came and sat down next to him on the bed, still staring forlornly in the direction of the doorway where Isaac had just been.

"Are we terrible parents?" she sighed, dramatically.

He chuckled at her.

"Possibly."

"Oh, they grow up so fast," she said, wiping a fake tear from under her eye.

He reached the arm he could still move the most over to her and patted her knee with mock sincerity. She looked down at this hand with fake horror.

"Oops. That'll need tightening. God forbid you break free and ravish me."

"God forbid." He agreed, winking slyly at her.

* * *

**So there it is! Truly finished now. I know this is really fluffy and I was worried he might be a little out of character in this last bit, but I don't think he could stay the same brooding, silent loner we've come to know and love if he had little Lydia coaxing him out of his shell. I reckon regular sex would cheer him up a little bit. :)**

**Also, thanks to DoubleDee068 who initially mentioned Isaac catching them a coupla chapters ago. It gave me the idea for this last little epilogue and I decided that Isaac would be the perfect extra character to be able to give a new take on their changing relationship. Also, I just love Isaac. I just want to cuddle him. I might try to weave Isaac into my next story? Hmm.. I'll have to have a think. **

**Once again, thank you for sticking with me to the end of this little story. I seriously love all of your reviews! If you liked this story, don't forget to add me to your alerts to make sure you don't miss out on any future stories I may write. **

**xxx **


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